Shadows
by BeautifulFiction
Summary: They're just dreams, that's all." Angsty insomnia cliche with a dash of fluff. Pre Roy/Ed.


**Warnings: Ed's language**

_Author's notes: In the midst of decorating, covered in paint and so very tired, I bring you this. Therapeutic writing for me, and hopefully something entertaining for you._

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_Shadows  
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Ed blinked his gritty eyes, staring out across Central's sprawl. It was almost late enough to be called early, and only the street lamps cast any light through the sleeping metropolis, charting bright white roads through the quiet city. He was exhausted, so tired that he could barely even think around the weight of it in his mind, but he didn't dare try and go back to bed. For days he'd been hunting peaceful slumber, but every time he found it, the nightmares leapt, filling his world from one edge to the other with their horror.

Once, they had been about his mother: memory given shape by the touch of his dreams – shattered bone and torn flesh that struggled for breath within the array that was both its cradle and its grave. Time and again the Gate reached out, opening up his head and pouring itself into its confines, breaking him down beneath the mass of its knowledge. All the while, Al was waiting, a steel-plated soul looking for salvation.

Over the past few months, the images had changed. It was not his mother within the circle, but his brother. Alchemy erupted in a dazzling tangle of power and hatred that stole Alphonse from him all over again. Not just his body but his soul, his voice, his being, gone into the clutches of the Gate. Even in his sleep, Ed knew that there was no way he could ever get him back.

There was no price he could pay.

Night after night, he woke like a drowning man breaking the surface one last time, gasping for air and slicked in sweat as his heart thrashed madly in his chest. Nausea would bend him double, a greasy fist clawing at his gut as he choked down hacking, tearless sobs of panic and anger. Part of him knew he was being ridiculous. Al was back in his body, safe and sound. For once in his life, Ed had done something right, so why did his fears linger on, shredding his nights and draining his days?

The very thought of sleeping again was too much for Ed to comprehend. He couldn't lie in that bed and wait for the dreams to find him whenever his conciousness shut down, and he couldn't bear Al's frightened questions with every violent, spine-snapping awakening. He needed to get away – to lick his wounds in private – so he came here.

A soft wind stirred Ed's hair as it blew across the roof of the command tower, pushing gold strands back from his cheeks and chilling his bloodless skin. He ignored it as he gazed down at the distant parade ground, his arms folded on the high wall around the building's rim and his nose buried in his sleeves as he stared at nothing in particular.

He wasn't even sure how long he'd been up here, hours, possibly, but he didn't want to move, not when there was air he could breathe and a far-flung world to see. In this place he was free of the cage of his night terrors, at least for a little while.

Behind him, someone's boots scraped on the floor, and Ed lifted his heavy head to glance over his shoulder at the man who stood in the doorway to the rooftop. He was silhouetted against the light from the stairwell, but Ed didn't need to see his face to know who it was.

Mustang.

'Edward?' Roy's voice was soft and tainted with an edge of dark worry. 'What are you doing up here?'

Ed turned away, looking back towards the city as he gave a weary shrug. He didn't want to talk about this, not with Mustang, not with Al, not with anyone. Maybe the dreams were payback for everything he'd seen and done. Perhaps his mind was finally breaking under the strain, shattered by the weight of too much black knowledge and bitter realisation. Whatever it was, he'd rather be left to suffer in peace than deal with anyone's pity.

The door whispered on its hinges as Roy closed it behind himself. For a second, Ed thought he'd taken the hint and left, but slow, steady footsteps banished that notion before it had lingered for more than a heartbeat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mustang lean his back against the wall, watching him intently.

'Alphonse is worried about you,' Roy said at last, his coat rustling as he folded his arms across his chest. 'We all are, Ed. What's going on? When you're in the office, you're so exhausted that you're barely functioning. I don't dare send you on assignment like this –'

'Poor you,' Ed growled. 'Where will you get your glory now?'

He could almost hear Roy grinding his teeth in frustration, biting back sharper words as he muttered, 'Grow up, Ed. I don't give a shit about whether you work or not. I'm worried about _you_.' A movement made Ed look up, and he watched Roy run a bare hand through his hair. For the first time, he noticed the stubble on the older man's jaw and the dark shadows under his eyes. Tense lines creased his brow and bracketed his mouth, and his shoulders were slumped and weary.

'You should worry about yourself, Mustang,' he said gruffly. 'You can't stand there in the middle of the night looking like shit and tell _me_ to get some sleep.' He sighed, wishing the words didn't seem so distant in his mind or clumsy on his tongue. He felt like he was missing something important, like Roy's presence should mean something, but his brain was too addled to grasp it. 'What're you even doing up here?'

There was no answer, and Roy looked over his shoulder at Central's expanse before meeting Ed's gaze. 'Al came to me yesterday because he didn't know what to do any more. He thinks you're having bad dreams. Is that it? Is that why you're doing this?' Roy waved vaguely around him, indicating the roof and the city beyond.

Ed grimaced. He and Al had to look for their own apartment as soon as possible. They both needed their own space, including separate bedrooms. If nothing else, Alphonse didn't need to be woken up by his freakish older brother ripping himself from sleep every night.

Roy sighed into the silence, giving up on waiting for an answer as he carried on. 'Everyone has bad dreams, Ed. Some worse than others, but nightmares all the same. You can't let them do this. You can't let them bleed out into your waking life or, soon enough, you'll find they're all you've got left.'

Ed lowered his head back to his arms, dimly aware of Roy shifting his weight, moving close enough for him to feel the faint whisper of his body heat and smell the lingering spice of his cologne.

'You're not the only one who's been through sleepless nights, Ed. I – '

'Don't tell me you fucking understand!' he hissed, hunching his shoulders and glaring over the red horizon of his sleeve. 'Don't tell me you know what it's like! You don't know a fucking thing about me. Just go home, Mustang.'

Roy flinched, clearly surprised by his sudden outburst, but he didn't draw away or retreat. Instead, he shook his head, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin defiantly. 'I don't take orders from you, Ed, and I'm not leaving until you talk to me. What are you dreaming that's doing this to you?'

Ed braced his palms against the wall, feeling the chill of the stone through his gloves as he pushed himself away and strode across the roof. He didn't want company or sympathy. He didn't want someone telling him it would be all right and treating him like a child, but Mustang couldn't let it go. He never changed: if he was presented with a mystery, then it had to be solved. He couldn't stand to be kept in the dark about anything, and Ed hated that Mustang had decided to shine the light on_ him__._

Roy's warm fingers manacled his wrist, tugging him to a halt like a dog on a leash. It was the last straw. Exhaustion was already raging through his body, and every emotion lingered close to the surface, barely concealed. As always, it was anger that broke through, and Ed spun around, eyes flashing and his hands clenched into fists as he snarled a warning. 'Let me go!'

'No!' Mustang's voice was like steel, hard and unyielding as he tightened his grip, taking a step closer until they were toe-to-toe. 'For god's sake, Ed, is it really so hard to believe that I'm trying to help you?'

'What do you care?' Ed demanded, his voice strangled as he twisted his arm, trying to get free. He couldn't cope with this. Physically and mentally he felt like he was coming undone at the seams, burning up and breaking down. Of all the people in the world, he couldn't fall apart in front of Mustang. 'All you've ever done is sit on the other side of that desk and tell me what to do! You didn't help me before –'

'Because you wouldn't let me!' He moved his hands, curling his fingers around Ed's shoulders and giving him a gentle shake. 'You forced yourself to carry the burden of getting Al back on your own, and I didn't stop you.' Roy bit his lip, looking briefly away before lifting his head again. 'I won't make the same mistake twice. Please, Ed, for once in your life, let me help you!'

He sounded desperate, as if it really meant something to him, and Ed found his lips parting wordlessly as he tried to make up his mind. Mustang spent his life manipulating people, digging out their secrets and twisting their words to give himself the upper hand. Ed knew that hadn't changed, but perhaps, this time, it didn't apply. There was no shield up in that dark gaze and no blank expression. Roy's emotions were there to be read by anyone who cared to look, honest in a way Ed had never seen before.

Besides, deep down, he knew Mustang was right: he couldn't keep going on like this, and who else was he meant to talk to? He couldn't tell Al. He would only blame himself and worry more than ever before. Alphonse didn't fully remember what had happened to their mother, and he trusted Ed so implicitly. No, he couldn't show his little brother that he'd ever had any doubt, and there was no one else who could even begin to understand.

Except Roy, who, even now, still bore the marks of his own war against his nightmares.

'Tell me why you're up here,' Ed ordered roughly, 'why you're not sleeping like everyone else in this place, and then maybe I'll talk to you.' The crooked, mirthless smile felt stiff on his face as he added, 'Equivalent exchange.'

He was asking a lot, Ed knew that. Mustang rarely opened up to anyone. Even his men, who had worked with him for years, didn't know his true depths, but there was no way that Ed was going to utter a word without getting something in return.

Roy's hands fell to his side, leaving Ed chilled by the absence of his touch. For a moment, he thought that was the end of it – that Mustang would turn and walk away without saying a word, and he blinked in surprise when Roy took a deep breath and began to speak.

'Like I said, everyone has nightmares.' He shrugged, crossing his arms as he chose to look at the floor, rather than meet Ed's gaze. 'I still have dreams about Ishbal. Not often, but they're bad enough to keep me awake some nights. I couldn't sleep, and there's nothing comforting about an empty house in the middle of the night, so I came back to headquarters. I thought I'd get some paperwork done before Hawkeye really did put a bullet between my eyes.'

He lifted his head, squaring his shoulders as he continued. 'It's plain to anyone that you've not been sleeping well, that you haven't been for days, and when I came up here to get some air and found you... .' Roy trailed off, watching Ed's face intently. 'I want to help, but I can't do anything unless you talk to me.'

'Will that do any good?' Ed asked, not bothering to keep the doubt out of his voice. He waited, watching the various emotions skim over Roy's face. He looked like he was trying to work out whether to tell a lie for Ed's own good or stick with the truth, and his lips pressed into a flat line as he made his decision.

'It won't make them go away, nothing will, but it might make you feel that you can fight them.' In the distance, a clock began to strike the hour, and Roy looked over his shoulder at the view, waiting for the night to regain its silence before he sighed. 'If you don't want to talk to me about it, then fine, that's your choice, but please tell someone? Even if you don't think they can help, isn't it worth a try if it makes your nights even a little bit more bearable?'

Ed tried to say something, to agree or argue, he wasn't sure, but the words were caught in his throat, clumsy and awkward. He'd asked his price, and Roy had paid it, but now Ed couldn't bring himself to speak.

Finally, Mustang bowed his head, his broad shoulders slumping further as he turned away. For once in his life, the man wasn't pushing for an answer. He wasn't making demands or snapping orders; he was giving Ed the space and privacy that, fifteen minutes ago, he'd wanted more than anything.

Now, he didn't think he could bear the solitude.

'Roy, wait!' Ed's voice cracked on the words, and he swallowed hard against the knot that tangled in his throat. Panicky, mad thoughts thrashed around his head, colliding with one another as he tried not to stammer or shake. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he rounded his shoulders, not daring to look Mustang in the face as he forcefully dragged an explanation out of himself.

'They're just dreams, that's all.' Ed shrugged, screwing up his face and taking a steadying breath. 'I've always had them about everything I did wrong, everything I _c__ould_ have done wrong. There's just so much that I fucked up, and I can't even forget that when I'm awake, let alone when I'm asleep.'

'Your mother?' Roy asked quietly, turning back to face him as he waited for an answer.

Ed nodded, clenching his hands into fists as his next breath stuttered and hitched. 'And other things. Nina, Tucker, all that shit. We found out so much, and now I can't pretend that I never saw it.' He gritted his teeth, still staring at the floor as Roy walked closer. He hadn't said a word in response, and Ed kept talking just to fill the silence. 'Lately they've been about Al, too. I dream I make a mess of things and lose him, or bring him back looking like – like something in a butcher's window, and there's nothing I can do to put it right!'

A shiver tore through him, so vicious it almost made him stumble, and Ed choked back a whimper, stifling it before it had a chance to escape. Grown men didn't cry, not about anything, least of all things that weren't even real. He knew they were only dreams, just the tangled knots of memory and his subconscious mind, but when he was asleep they seemed so vivid, and when he was awake the guilt and fear lingered on, a dirty mark that nothing could erase.

Roy's warm hand gripped Ed's wrist, tugging him close so that he could wrap his arms around him. At any other time, he would have struggled and snapped that he didn't need anyone's pity but, for once, he was too tired to fight.

Slowly, very slowly, Ed let himself relax. It seemed natural to loop his arms loosely around Roy's body and rest his forehead against his shoulder. He could feel the rise and fall of Roy's chest and the drum of his heart through their clothes, and it was enough to soothe the sharpest edges of exhausted desperation and bring Ed one step back from the brink of falling apart completely.

'Idiot,' Mustang murmured, squeezing tight for a moment as he rubbed a hand across Ed's back. 'Why didn't you tell someone?'

Ed snorted, a rough sound that was muffled by Roy's coat. 'I'm telling you, aren't I?' With a sigh, he pulled back, making a faint noise of complaint as Roy didn't let go. 'I'm fine. It's not that big a deal.'

Mustang's hand moved, lightly gripping Ed's chin and lifting his face so that their eyes met. 'It is to me,' he said. 'I've seen you fight through things and win where older men would fail, but you've never been like this before. You've always kept going, but over the past few days – I've never thought you would give up.'

He didn't know what to say. No words of reassurance sprang to mind, and Ed stared at Roy for a few more heartbeats before relaxing back into his embrace. He hadn't known how bad it looked from the outside, hadn't been able to see himself through anyone else's eyes, but the look on Roy's face was enough to tell him that he hadn't only been hurting himself with his silence.

After too many long days and hard nights, he finally saw the truth: there were people he could lean on and friends he could trust.

He didn't have to carry on alone.

_End_


End file.
